


Chocolate Frogs

by FloatingCowskull



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, Weechesters, faithful Sam, praying, young Dean and Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloatingCowskull/pseuds/FloatingCowskull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel does something nice for the Winchesters</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Frogs

When Sam was young, young and faithful, and indeed perhaps more faithful than Heavens plan for him should have allowed him to be, he had prayed.  He had prayed to God and Heaven foremost, to some ultimate being with a plan.  Something beyond the monsters.   But he also prayed to Heaven, to the Archangels, the Angels, Seraphs and Seraphim’s, really to anything that was listening.  

However, in truth, most Angels in Heaven had long ago turned off that part of themselves, that little antenna in the back of their Grace that listened to the plight of Humans.  Angels like Cas supposed that the instruction against assisting these prayers was part of the grand design of God, who willed something other from his mysterious absence from a higher high.

Back in the days when Sam was still loyal to a similar ideal, he had prayed to the Archangel Gabriel on occasion.   He had prayed to the biblical force, messenger of God, grandious, pious, faithful exalter of the Lords name and the mighty herald Heaven.  

And it must be noted that although the Archangel was, in his self-proclaimed witness protection scheme, he had, for all these centuries kept tabs on humanity.  In a way, it helped his little games, hearing the cries of the wicked so he could come up with ironic justice for his own amusement.   And the justice he implemented, while Heaven ignored the cries, gave him a succinct reminder of why it wasn’t worth going back.

Sam was 13 when he first had a real scrape with death that drove home is own mortality.   Dean dragged him out of school for a salt and burn while their father worked on something with fangs and claws.

“Dean, are you sure, really?” Sam had whinned while his voice started to break.

“Dude.  Were not kids anymore, it’s a spirit.  We can gank it without Dad.” His brother had retorted with the stance overconfident teenager. 

They took the bus to the town over with knifes, salt and matches.   Within 35 minutes, both were bleeding with their heads pounding out of their skulls.   By sundown, they could nurse those wounds.   Back at the motel, Dean told Sam to sit on the bed and he ripped of the oversized shirt.  Brushing gently over the bleeding flesh he poured a 5th of whisky over the abrasions while Sam bit down on the old rag Dean had instinctively shoved in his mouth.

Dean’s needlework was enviable, and in another life would have been the pride of a county fair.   Hugging his younger brother, he bandaged up his torso and guided him to lie down gently, folding the cheap sheets over his brother.   Dean cleaned himself up and pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead before lying down.

Sam lay there awake, sore all over and too physically exhausted to be of any help to his brother, and experience told him, Dean would never let little Sammy baby him.  Still, he could pray for his brother.  “Dear Gabriel…” he began, hoping that all would be well when we awoke.

Gabriel had been in Greece, terrorising some minor politicians on account of a sex scandal and some rather backhanded sexism.  Mulling over the local papers report about the representative caught on camera in strip joint (see: pole dancing politician), Gabriel had suddenly found himself tuned into a prayer directed at him.   Of the Angels, he was among the most famous amongst his brothers, but this plea was different, this was his brothers vessel calling.   Not a prophet, he had no ingrained obligation to assist, but still, someone worth keeping tabs on. 

“poor kid” said the Archangel, to the empty apartment.

Sam woke up to find a packet of Chocolate frogs in the fridge, never let it be said that Gabriel was heartless.    It’s also worth noting that Deans wound didn’t fester, inducing blood poisoning, the frogs however, were just a personal touch.


End file.
